“No,” said Emma carelessly, “I hate bridal receptions and avoid them whenever I possibly can.” Mrs. Lyman had risen while she was speaking, and she said, “Oh don’t go! Why are you in such a hurry?”
“I must, my dear,” replied Mrs. Lyman. “The Armstrongs and Ringolds receive to-day, and then I must call at Meredith’s. We have not been there since the party. And Cadwaladers too, Mary,” she said, turning to her daughter, “don’t forget them. We have been owing that visit so long—and the Harrisons, and I don’t know how many,” she continued, as if quite oppressed with the weight of fashionable cares. “I don’t suppose we shall get through with the half of them. Come Mary,” and so bidding Emma and her friends good morning, she withdrew.
The door had hardly closed upon her, when Mrs. Fortesque, still wrathy at the manner in which Mrs. Lyman had spoken of Rawleys, and angrier still at finding she was going to Hammersley’s, vented some of her indignation exclaiming —
“How that woman does work for society!”
“One would think she had been at court to hear her talk of Elliots,” said Emma laughing.
“Just so, Emma,” said Mrs. Fortesque, in a tone of bitter satisfaction at the young lady’s laughing satire. “It’s too absurd! And as to saying the Elliots called first, I don’t believe it. They, strangers here, and people of their fortune, are not likely to go about making first calls.”
“What’s that?” said Charlotte Appleton, who had been engrossed in conversation with a gentleman on the opposite side of the room. “What’s that about the Elliots making first calls.”
“I was saying it was rather remarkable that they should have called first on Mrs. Lyman,” replied Mrs. Fortesque.
“They did not,” exclaimed Charlotte. “Of course, as strangers, you know, Mrs. Fortesque, they would not, and I know the Lymans called upon them some time ago.”
“Are you sure of that, Charlotte?” asked Mrs. Fortesque, with the triumphant manner of one securing an important fact.